


Your Heaviest Artillery

by LostInCircles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4025623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInCircles/pseuds/LostInCircles





	1. Chapter 1

**All My Nightmares Escape My Head.  
Bar the Door, Please, Don’t Let Them In**

At eight years old, shortly after my parents were found dead in an abandoned factory turned warehouse, my nightmare began. It seemed innocuous enough to anybody I tried to tell. Nothing but electric blue eyes surrounded by a sea of dark swirls. Nobody quite understood how that simple image could unsettle me so much. Although nearly outgrown, the seemingly benign dream still visits occasionally and hits with enough force that I can only begin to calm down after taking a dose of Atarax. I avoid eye contact with anybody whose eyes are too blue. Even while awake they constrict my throat and set my fingers twitching. 

At nine years old, I went trick or treating dressed in dark, dirty clothes and muddied boots. I tied my hair back with a strip of purple cloth torn off a bandana. A silver cross hung around my neck while a toy army knife sat in a holster strapped to my thigh. I told everyone who perplexingly asked that I was a Hunter. Just like the woman who came to visit right after my parents died. My grandpa would just shrug and placate their confusion with some lines about my imagination while they doled out the candy to the poor orphan. After my fair share of expensive therapy sessions I finally stopped believing in my hunter. She was just an imaginary friend that I temporarily needed to help cope with the trauma of my loss. Her knowledge and strength and weapons made me feel safe. When I stopped believing in her I stopped believing in monsters as well. What point is there to monsters without a hero to slay them? The nightmare, though, persisted.

At eighteen years old, I returned to my parents’ land in Nebraska. It required a lot less therapy than I anticipated, but those swirly blue eyes haunted my dreams on a much more frequent basis until I really settled in and made the small house my home. I loved having my own place in college while my friends complained of dorm rooms and roommates. The warehouse had been torn down and replaced with an agricultural research facility that I did my best to avoid. 

At twenty-four, I had a college degree, a job at a daycare, a garden full of fresh ingredients to relax in, and my very own chickens. I had prarie grass and a small crick to explore at twilight when crickets chirp and lightning bugs glow. The life insurance money from my parents death was invested in a trust fund that allows me to stay on part time at the daycare without searching for more. I may not be wealthy and I may be driving my first car until it absolutely can’t be fixed, but I live comfortably. At twenty-four years old, I had a simple life.


	2. Chapter 2

**When You Walk In The Room  
I Know My Life’s Never Going To Be Planned**

I’d been stood up by my best friend again. I sidled up into stool next to the shaggy-haired stranger sitting closest to the door at the bar instead. He held a five page newspaper in front of him, trying to catch what little extra light he could. After a curious glance that was almost entirely unnecessary, I could see it was the local paper. As the only other person I’d seen who read more than just the farming report, I thought maybe he could provide some refreshing conversation. I staged a careful accident, nudging him as I reached for the drinks list. I secretly sighed in relief at the sight of the brown eyes that tore their gaze away from the paper.

“What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?” A slight irritated smile creased the corners of his lips.

“A boy like me?” His eyebrows raised at the suggestion.

“You know,” I playfully prodded. “Cute and literate.” He let out a light laugh at my description. I smiled at the sound, a little relieved to discover that despite Stacie’s insistence to the contrary, I hadn’t lost all ability to flirt. “There are easier places to try to read that paper. Or, I could just tell you what everybody’s saying about the murders.” 

“How’d you know?” He folded up his paper and set it down, catching the edge of a pool of condensation from the glass of dark brown soda on the bar in front of him. The liquid seeped into the thin page and quickly spread into a large dark blot. The bartender interrupted long enough for me to order a glass of beer. The stranger declined my offer to buy him a drink.

“It’s all anybody’s talking about lately. Besides, a town this small wouldn’t attract a tourist for any other reasons. So are you a reporter or something?”

“Or something,” he responded. 

“You’re not the murderer, right?” His face reflected my own smile. “Why are you trying to read in a bar anyway?” He jerked his head and my gaze followed to the other end of the room where a much louder man downed a shot with a wide grin and an arm wrapped around a familiar thin brunette. I rolled my eyes when Mackenzie tilted her head back and laughed, no doubt at something not that funny that the grinning man said. Even from here I could tell she was faking it, but maybe those shots helped him see past that. She would be all over him until she decided he wasn’t her ticket out of this town. I could hear him try to coax either of the Tanner boys into a round of pool. A small wave of revulsion washed through my stomach. I’d been around enough guys like him in college. I dated enough guys like him in college. I was thankful to see the look of agitation on paper boy’s face, too. 

“My brother,” he explained. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” His face betrayed a confused but amused look. “I know more than that paper could tell you about whatever you want to know,” I explained. He looked back over at the brother who was paying absolutely no attention to either of us.

“You know what? Sure. Let’s go.” He stuck out a hand, finally offering his name. I quickly drained my glass and put a five on the counter before shaking it.

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Jamie.”

We walked down the street just a few blocks and turned off under a streetlamp. A small park sat on the corner. Sometimes teenagers come late at night to drink or smoke, but the area was deserted. Most likely because of the string of attacks. Nervous parents kept watchful eyes on their children.

We sat in the creaky swings and I told him what I knew about the victims and the families. It surprised me to discover how good it felt to talk to somebody about it. I’d only lived in the community about seven years so while I certainly knew everybody, I just wasn’t as close as all these families that live and die here. Still, I’d had enough death for one lifetime.

“You know, whoever is doing this is actually pretty smart. A while back they released mountain lions along the Platte. This would look just like a mountain lion attack, except the sick fuck keeps taking everybody's heart.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Be Our Guest  
Get Your Worries Off Your Chest**

I jumped up onto the countertop despite every chemistry teacher and my aunt scolding me when I was younger. The backs of black Nike cross trainers banged lightly against the oak drawers. The back of my hand wiped away the hint of perspiration forming at my hairline. Sugary sweet apple with just a hint of cinnamon erupted across my taste buds. I’d successfully fed the chickens, cleaned every visible surface in the house, whipped up some fresh pasta salad and lemonade, and added pie filling and lattice crust to two hollowed granny smith apples. All that remained was to bake the apple pies and cook the chicken. I worked on eating what little pie filling remained as a reward for all my hard work.

“It’s open,” I shouted in response to the knock on the door. I glanced around the kitchen as my heart sped up, hoping everything was still as clean as it was at eight o’clock this morning. I popped the last spoonful of apple into my mouth to ease my nerves. I couldn’t quite explain the strange, deep desire to make this guy like me. It wasn’t a primal, physical attraction I felt when I approached him the night before at the bar. Something in him called out to me, begging to just be understood.

“Hi, Sam! Glad you found the place alright.” He just smiled as he slid his hands past a slate blue button down shirt and into the front pockets of perfectly fitting jeans. I couldn’t quite shake the notion that he looked as if he belonged in my house more than I did. “Make yourself at home. There’s plenty of chairs if counters aren’t your thing,” I joked. I inwardly groaned at my sad attempt at humor.

He turned around to face the living room while I jumped down, my shoes colliding with a dull thud against the wood floor. He sank into my sofa. I secretly watched him take a deep breath and gently slap his palms against his thighs. Maybe he was nervous, too? He curiously looked around until his eyes landed on my miniature library. He walked over to a bookshelf and cocked his head slightly to the side. He grabbed a fairly large volume and cracked it open. I cringed a bit when I realized what he was doing. He looked up at me, clearly surprised. My cheeks lit aflame under an embarrassed blush.

“Norse legends and mythology?” I just nodded, waiting for this awkward moment to pass. Practically every culture’s folklore was represented in that bookshelf. I could at least be thankful he grabbed the fairly tame Norse book. I didn’t believe in monsters anymore but I was still fascinated by the idea of them. “Do you actually read this stuff?” He was flipping slowly through the pages, undoubtedly perusing the mesmerizing black and white illustrations.

“Of course, why else would I have them? Unless that’s totally weird for you. Then I know nothing about Ymir or Nisse.” He gave me a thoughtful look before putting the book back. “You could always borrow one if you’d like.” 

“Would it be alright if I call you sometime? If I have questions about your books?”

“Sure, but I’m not sure when my books are going to be of any interest to you while you’re out investigating murders. Or whatever it is you do.” He just flashed a knowing smile before steering the conversation to polite small talk while I cooked the chicken. Mostly comments on my nice home. He even offered to set the table for me, which I graciously accepted.

I anxiously watched him take the first bite. His expression rapidly changed from apprehensive to pleasantly surprised. I exhaled a sigh of relief. With everything within my control behind us I could finally relax. I asked him about the murderer but he hadn’t learned anything new yet. He was more than a little dodgy about his occupation so I let it slide.

“So why were you with that party boy last night?” I asked as I stood up to clear the table. He told me about his brother and how they worked together traveling the country. He started to vent a little. Sam seemed to really want to settle down and finish school; he told me about Stanford and how he was going to go to law school. His brother, though, really needed him and guilted him into staying on the road. “Must be nice to have a brother, though,” I mused.

“You’re an only child?”

“Well, kind of. After my parents died I went to live with my aunt and uncle once it was decided they’d have an easier time than my grandparents. They have two boys and a daughter. Matthew is the youngest but he’s seven years older than me so we were never close.” 

After a few more hours of actually pleasant conversation, Sam’s phone interrupted. “I’m sorry; I’ve got to go.” I made him wait a minute while I dashed into the kitchen to wrap up the pies for him to take with him.

“For you and your brother,” I explained. “Call or stop by sometime, alright?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Between The Present And The Past Tense  
Lies The Present And The Distance **

The chiming of a bell pulled my attention from the counter full of mini bagels. A familiar mess of dark blonde hair headed in my direction. Stacie’s infectious smile spread wide all the way down into a bounce in her step. I put the the knife back into the veggie cream cheese to greet her.

“You’re early! The kids haven’t even had lunch yet,” I told her as we parted from our hug. She finally found some time off work so we were headed to Omaha for a fancy date night: dinner and a play. First, I had to finish my shift. That meant getting the kids lunch and helping get them down for a nap. After that, I would be free. She sauntered over to the sink and washed up before helping me finish with lunch prep. She talked about all the new goings on at her job. This, of course, led to the familiar accusatory look she loved to give me when she spoke about work. 

“You know, things would be so much better if you’d just come join me.” She raised her eyebrows, hoping this plea would work when so many had failed before. I just laughed and shook my head. I actually liked my part time job at the daycare. I got to bask in children’s joy all morning. I mostly got paid to play. Sure, that’s not what I went to college for, but I didn’t think I’d be nearly as happy doing anything else. She didn’t let my refusal spoil her good mood. 

Before long, we were on the road for Omaha. Stacie drove since she has a nicer car. I watched corn fields whiz past the passenger window at eighty miles an hour. We debated over trying someplace new or sticking to a tried and true place we loved. The debate was leaning towards new. Stacie was sliding into a bit of a restless mood that overtook her every few months. It was her tell that things at work were getting too stressful. My buzzing phone startled me. The caller ID gave no assistance: Unknown Number. I answered hesitantly, fully expecting a telemarketer. 

“Jamie? Hey! I’m glad I caught you,” a young voice spoke hurriedly, but it wasn’t one I recognized. Although he did sound familiar. 

“Who is this?”

“It’s Sam. We met at the bar not too long ago? I could really use your help with something.” Nervous eyes shot a glance at my best friend, quietly singing Backstreet Boys and pretending not to eavesdrop on my conversation. A raised eyebrow gave her away. Something told me this was about my bookshelf.

“You know, now’s not really a good time for me.” He insisted it was urgently important, even if he couldn’t tell me why. I sighed and let him ask his question. 

“Mermaids?” I nearly snorted on the word, trying not laugh at Sam. Mermaids were so urgently important? “You’re joking, right?” First, he showed up in the middle of nowhere to learn about a strange killer. Now, he’s calling about mermaids. He didn’t need my help. He needed the number to my old therapist. 

“I know, it sounds crazy. But how do you kill one?” I nearly hung up, almost positive this was his weird idea of a prank call. Something pressing in his voice kept me on the line.

“I don’t know, but they’re half human, right, so just shoot it? All I know is that one Native American myth says if you steal a merperson’s clothing, it will lose its power. I don’t know what that means, but it’s the closest thing I’ve got to killing one.” He hurriedly thanked me and hung up without any further explanation. Stacie shot me a knowing smile and I returned it with the best ‘don’t ask’ look I could muster. She just shrugged and returned her attention to the stereo. I knew this phone call would come up eventually at dinner. I reached out to turn the volume back up while she belted out Journey lyrics.

I’d asked around a little after Sam and his brother had left. Everyone said they were insurance agents poking around. He was the strangest insurance agent I’d ever met. If my childhood imaginary friend didn’t count.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ever Have a Conversation  
That You Realize You've Had Before**

I flipped the phone shut and slid it back into my front pocket. Stacie got stuck at work again and had to cancel our date night. Of course, she made sure to remind me that if only I would come join her, things wouldn’t be so bad. I shook my head at her gentle pleading. She was partially right. If I would just take the job, I would see Stacie every date night. I just wasn’t dumb enough to believe that it would be outside the office. I pulled the door open and entered the bar alone.

I approached a brown haired man, sitting alone and attempting to read a heavy book in a booth in a corner. He slightly twisted his wrists, trying to catch what little light the small overhead lamp provided. A brief glance at the sturdy leather hardcover in the dim light made it appear to be something that belonged on my bookshelf. A half empty glass of water with heavy perspiration dripping down the sides from recently melted ice and a plate of beef and bean nachos sat nearly untouched in front of him. I already saw the man I thought had to be his brother when I walked in. He was slowly nursing a beer at the bar with his head propped up in his left hand and glassy eyes glued to the television screen. A commercial for Taco Bell hawked its latest excuse for Mexican food. I sidled up next to the reader and carefully elbowed him in the arm to catch his attention. 

“What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this, anyway?" I playfully asked, one eyebrow arched. I was honestly curious, though. Nothing had happened in this small town so I wasn’t expecting him to have returned already. I wasn’t really expecting him to return at all.

“A boy like me?” He joked back with a large, knowing smile gracing his face from remembering our first meeting. He quickly snapped the book shut and tucked it away safely from prying eyes between the wall and his legs. My curiosity rose but I could tell he wouldn't talk about the book. I tried a different subject instead. 

"Did you ever solve your pesky mermaid problem?" I hoped to get a little more information than the quick phone call offered but with the way his right hand reached up to scratch lightly behind his ear it didn't look hopeful. 

"Yeah, just a crazy work thing," he explained. My lips pulled into a frown. I generally knew when I was being lied to, and as reasonable as his explanation was, this felt like a lie.

"A lot of mermaids in the insurance industry?" His eyes widened slightly, surprised. I couldn’t tell if he was surprised I knew he was insurance or surprised I would call him out.

He quickly recovered and laughed before adding, "It was a really stupid bet." 

I helped myself to a chip laden in beef and cheese off his plate. "Did you win?"

"Yeah, actually. Thanks for your help, by the way."

I casually shrugged, helping myself to another chip off his plate. He slid the entire thing in front of me, indicating he was done. "No problem. From now on, though, work bets aren't a dire emergency, ok?"

"Oh, of course. Won't happen again," he promised. 

We laughed and talked more about our lives as I ate his almost cold nachos. I couldn’t help but notice how comfortable I felt with Sam, despite barely knowing him. Sitting in a booth at the local bar, it felt like talking to a long lost friend. He'd just been busy traveling around for work since the last time he was here. I could feel a small bit of my heart cracking when he said he hadn't even been home. When I invited them over to my home, he gently protested that he didn't think they'd have time.

"Nonsense," I insisted. "You're not leaving Nebraska without a home cooked meal. I can't get you home, but I can at least do that much for you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Darkness, Darkness Everywhere  
Do You Feel Alone?**

The sun inched nearer to its final destination, painting the sky in paling pinks and oranges. Already the brightest stars began to freckle the dark blue in the east. I looked up to wonder if even one shined bright for me. Soon, constellations would spread their stories through the night. The heavy engine roared to life, cutting off the silence. The brothers left as they arrived- Sam waving like a lunatic from the passenger seat. I wasn’t much into cars but my uncle and cousins instilled in me a healthy enough respect for old muscle cars. I watched appreciatively as the Impala sped down the road, out of my corner of the woods and towards a fresh destination.

I retreated inside to clean up after supper. I gathered empty dishes from around the table too big for one. I mused on Dean’s healthy appetite as I walked them over to the dishwasher. He ate two pork chops and a decent heaping of cornbread stuffing, green beans and mashed potatoes. My initial assumptions from the first time seeing him at the bar seemed to be proven correct. What he appeared to lack in intelligence he overcompensated in self-assuredness and strength. Even so, it was nice to have another body at my table. I so often ate alone that just about any company would satisfy me. Sam seemed more reserved and unsure in his older brother’s presence. Even so, I couldn’t help but envy the protective glances Dean kept shooting off in his little brother’s direction. It must be nice to have somebody watching out for you, ensuring you’re safe.

I wondered what it would be like to live with a brother with just the open road to truly call home. Nothing but bars and cheap motel rooms to rest a travel-weary body. The notion struck me as romantic in a lonely kind of way. The idea of never sticking around in any town long enough to become a part of anybody’s life and to never let them into your own, but knowing your best friend and brother shared a part of your journey. I probably couldn’t stomach the long weeks away. After my parents died, all I really wanted was to find someplace I could call home again.

I double checked the locks on the doors and windows before turning off all the lights. Darkness flashed through my vision before my eyes could adjust. Lightly stumbling towards my bed I reflected on how I’d found home where my parents took their last breaths. Maybe the Winchesters found home in each other.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Body Like a Punching Bag  
You Never Even Stood a Chance**

Wind drove the rain against my windowpanes. A booming clap of thunder startled me out of sleep. Before long, a bolt of lightning briefly lit up my bedroom, too quickly followed by its loud crackling cousin. I sighed and crawled out of bed. No respite would find me until the storm passed. I moved to the living room with all my bed coverings trailing behind me, my pillow cradled against my chest. My nerves slowly calmed while curled up on the couch in front of the tv’s soft glow. The earsplitting volume nearly drowned out the sound of the wind whipping rain outside, only punctuated by the sound of thunder. By the end of the made for tv movie, the worst of the storm seemed to have stopped. My eyelids dropped dangerously low.

A loud persistent banging at the door startled my eyes wide open. The clock glowed two fifteen in the morning. Confused but concerned, I untangled from the blankets and stumbled to the door. I pulled it open cautiously hoping to catch a peek of my visitor before fully exposing myself to a potential lunatic. He muscled his way past the door and into my living room without even so much as a gruff hello. He didn’t stop moving until he found himself in front of the fridge, light illuminating the face of my lunatic.

“Dean? It’s two in the freaking morning. What are you doing here?” I rubbed sleep from my eyes, annoyed at his sudden appearance. I hadn’t seen the boys in a few weeks, but Sam had called once or twice asking after some strange lore. I hoped he was winning all those strange bets. Dean turned his head ever so slightly to me wearing what can only be described as a shit-eating grin. 

“You said we should drop by anytime.” He pulled a bottle of beer and a Tupperware container of leftover meatloaf out of the fridge.

“Where’s Sam? He’s ok?”

“Yeah, Sammy’s fine. He’s at the hotel.” He pulled the edge of the lid back before popping the whole thing into the microwave. I clenched my jaw. A hand reached up to rub my face. My mood rapidly shifted from annoyed to mildly angry at the sight of him making himself so at home. 

“Then why on Earth are you here?”

“I’m hungry,” he stated simply with a hint of confusion, as if I’m the one acting strange here. I rolled my eyes despite his being super glued to his slowly rotating meal, the light softly illuminating his face. In the near darkness his face held a hint of damage. Wide awake by now I flipped the kitchen light on to investigate. 

“Jesus, Dean, what the hell happened?” A large gash traced his cheekbone, a red smear trailed away at the lower edge where he must have lightly reached up to check for blood. Dried blood caked his lip around a puffy cut. I grabbed him by the upper arm, steering him to the couch with his tupperware of lukewarm meatloaf. I retrieved a bowl of warm water and a clean washcloth. My left hand reached out to turn his face towards me so I could gently work to clean the blood away. 

A darkening bruise traced the edges of his gash. His lip was slightly swollen, but he wasn’t letting that slow him down from shoveling food into his mouth. He swatted me away. “It was just a little fight. Get off of me.” He pushed my hand away so he could return his attention to his food. He couldn't fool me, though. I saw the way he tried to hide his flinch when I dabbed at his tender lip. 

“You barged into my home. Just let me do this,” I ordered. He openly winced when I brushed against the gash. “You sure do make friends everywhere you go, don’t you?”

“All part of the Winchester charm, I suppose.” I couldn’t help but laugh. 

Sarcastically, I replied, “Sure, when I think of Dean Winchester, I think of charm.”

“Hey,” he objected. “Plenty of chicks dig me,” he stated proudly.

“Exactly; chicks dig you. No self-respecting woman would want anything to do with you.” It came off sounding way bitchier than I intended. Maybe it was just my sleep-deprived imagination kicking in but I could’ve sworn Dean flinched at my words.

“Do you want me to leave?” His face displayed a laid-back, jovial expression but it didn’t completely mask the crestfallen tone of his question. I don’t know why, but I almost felt bad for him. When I didn’t respond right away, he shrugged and reached for the remote. I sighed in exasperation and stormed off to my room. Of course it was only after I slammed the bedroom door that I remembered my bedding was with Dean on the couch. I climbed into my empty bed, not wanting to give him even the slightest satisfaction of seeing me slinking back for my pillow and blankets. I knew I wasn’t being completely fair to Dean. Something about him, though, just got under my skin.

Morning light filtered through the light fabric of the curtains. It bathed his face with an almost angelic glow. One leg fell over the edge of the couch, but the rest of him lay twisted around my comforter. I caught myself staring, glad he was sound asleep so he’d never know. I knew I should look away but I couldn’t help myself, too captivated by the sight of him. He actually looked young. He looked carefree. A softness settled into his features that made it look like nothing in this world had ever tried to drag him down, had never forced him to harden himself into a weapon against it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Don't Look at Me That Way  
It was an Honest Mistake**

He rolled back in with the storm the next night as well. The porch light caught the droplets of water clinging to his short brown hair. At least no new visible wounds marred his face this time. He pulled his lips into a wry smile before reaching out to pull open the screen door. I stepped aside to let him in but insisted he take off the soggy, muddy boots.

“We really need to discuss some boundaries. Do you know how late it is?” Eleven thirty on the clock showed that at least he was earlier than the last night. He peeled off the wet jacket and shook his hair out like a wet dog before plopping down onto my couch. 

“Why? You have a guy over or something?” I just rolled my eyes as I pulled an extra beer out of the fridge for him. Three emptied bottles already sat on the counter. I sat down next to him just as he began to help himself to my popcorn and M&Ms. I pulled the bowl away and nestled it in my lap.

“Watch it, Winchester. I have half a mind to revoke your open invitation.” I grabbed a handful of buttered kernels for myself. He flashed a charming smile, as if he knew he could get away with murder.

“What are we watching?” 

“I’m watching The Exorcist. You’re drinking that beer and going back to your hotel.” 

Three beers later I had Dean’s hand in a vice grip. I was actually glad he’d stopped by. I’d never actually seen this movie before. A parent at the daycare loaned it to me once he’d discovered I tended to avoid scary movies. Dean continued to casually shovel popcorn into his mouth. The credits rolled and Dean still sat beside me, hand locked in hand. He’d gotten a little closer after retrieving the last round from the fridge. Our knees bumped and I could smell the faint scent of cologne struggling to cling to his skin. An anxious knot formed in my stomach. I held his attention with wide, imploring eyes.

“Hey, if I asked you for a favor would you promise not to make fun of me?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Could you stay?” He looked at me, confused. His eyes briefly darted to the empty beer bottles on the coffee table, trying not to smirk. “I’m scared,” I admitted. An embarrassed blush crept into my cheeks. Surely he would never let me live this down. He just gave me a half-smile and a shrug. 

I quickly changed into an old tee and shorts before calling him into my room. A dim lamp in the corner of the room softly illuminated the room. I chided myself for being such a baby about things that go bump in the night, but blamed the alcohol for my inability to get a grip on reality. Monsters and demons don’t exist. Rationally, I knew I had nothing to be afraid of.

Dean cautiously knocked before opening the door. He offered to sleep on the couch again, but my heart couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in the dark. The couch would be too far away to ease me into simple dreams. 

His jeans slid to the floor at the base of my bed. A hand shot up to tousle his own hair, clearly contemplating the best way to approach joining me. He carefully, surprisingly respectfully, crawled under the blanket, creating plenty of space between us. Before long, his eyes slid shut into an easy slumber. His face dropped in my direction. It relaxed into that of the captivating youth from the night before. I rolled onto my side to get a better look at him. 

From some unknown place deep inside me I grew to hate the gap between us. To my mortification I reached out to caress his lightly stubbled face. His hazel eyes fluttered open. I bolted up in bed, dragging the covers towards me in the process, stammering apologies. He slowly sat up to join me, leaning against the headboard. 

“It won’t happen again,” I assured him. He punctuated my apology with a kiss, his lips warm and soft. I could taste a hint of beer but that didn’t stop my tongue from running lightly along his lower lip. He briefly broke away, a wicked grin spanning his face.

I woke with my arm draped over Dean’s bare chest. I dressed quietly and carefully shut the bedroom door behind me. Every curse I could think of I muttered to myself. I chided myself as I bussed the coffee table while a frozen waffle made its rounds in the microwave. The bottles clinked together noisily as they dropped into the recycle bin. I chided myself as I watched a pad of butter melt on the waffle, and even more as maple syrup drizzled over the top, slowly sinking into the tiny squares. 

Dean burst out of the my room and made a beeline for his jacket. “Sammy needs me,” he explained as he shrugged on the still drying leather. “Call me later if you get scared.” He smirked and I silently fumed, resolving to never speak to Dean Winchester again as long as I lived.

Except I “got scared” the next two nights he was still in town.


	9. Chapter 9

**Should I Stay or Should I Go  
If I Go There Will Be Trouble**

I typed our names into the small screen at our lane in the middle of the ten lane bowling alley. At the end farthest from the exit an elderly couple laughed as they shared a secret joke. I watched them for a moment with a sad envy in the pit of my stomach. They were high school sweethearts and have been coming to this bowling alley for as long as anybody could remember. Their grandkids came to the daycare on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I wondered if that could have been my own parents one day if they were just given the chance.

I heard Stacie’s laughter over the year old pop music playing on the PA. I turned my head to the door in time to see Stacie hook one arm through her newest boyfriend’s arm. My date for the evening shuffled awkwardly behind them, shoulders slightly hunched and hands hidden in his front pockets like he was trying to disappear. I empathized with that feeling. I’d been Stacie’s third wheel enough times to recognize that look in his posture. I smiled and gave a single shy wave when his eyes caught mine. Stacie let go of Clint and rushed over to put in a few last good words for his brother, Mike.

Mike, surprisingly, was a lot of fun. We started out comparing first date horror stories but before I knew it I was genuinely enjoying my time spent with this postman from Lincoln. More than once Stacie caught my eye with a devilish smile and a suggestively raised eyebrow. I shook her away with a half smile. I could already tell that in her mind we were sisters-in-law vacationing together on beaches drinking colorful alcohol with little umbrellas in the glasses. I wasn’t on any beach, I was just trying to enjoy myself a little. I turned my attention back to Mike just in time to catch his dark eyes twinkling in the aftermath of his own joke. Dimples pierced his cheeks. I smiled along, having missed the punchline. Clint came over to nudge him, indicating it was his turn to bowl. He was just about to throw his ball as my phone rang.

‘Unknown Number’ flashed on the caller ID. I caught Mike’s attention, holding up my phone as I indicated to the door. He let loose another easy smile and a wave in acknowledgment. He picked up his ball from the return and very seriously positioned himself in the lane. 

I stepped out into the chilled night air. A crescent moon added its feeble light to the lamp posts in the parking lot. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Jamie.” He spoke so low I could barely make him out. My brow pinched in confusion. I double checked the caller ID, still indicating ‘Unknown Number’. 

“Who is this?”

“Winchester,” he said a bit louder, actually sounding a bit offended that I didn’t immediately recognize his voice. I left the line silent long enough he added, “Dean Winchester?”

“I’m sorry; who is this?” I obviously teased. He gave an annoyed sigh. 

“Listen, I want to see you.”

“When are you going to be in town again, then?” Last I knew they were somewhere in western Wyoming and Sam needed help figuring out the ancient powers of some difficult to pronounce herb. I never realized insurance agents were so into obscure trivia, but he always seemed to have strange questions when he called. 

“Passing through tonight on our way to Indiana. I’ll stop if you say yes.” 

I vacantly stared into the red neon ‘Open’ sign. It burned at the edges of my vision but I wasn’t really seeing it. I just saw an outdated version of myself that I swore I wouldn’t become again. After my first college boyfriend I vowed to never knowingly choose a Dean over a Mike again. I vowed to never again be an always open bed and breakfast for somebody who would do no more than just pass through and expect me to answer his beck and call. I would stay in control. Could I choose a friendship over a date, though?

“Jamie? You ok? Maybe I could just stop by sometime after we’re finished in Indiana instead?” I blinked away my blurry vision, trying to pull myself back to the nearly empty parking lot in the present. Could I be open to the possibility that Dean didn’t completely fit inside the little box I’d stuck him in under first impressions?

“Have you two eaten yet?” When he replied that it’d been a while I invited them both to stop over. Back inside the bowling alley I feigned an emergency for Stacie and the boys. I did my best to ignore the slight disappointment in Mike’s eyes, overshadowed by hope as he passed me his phone number. Guilt hit me. I slid the scrap of napkin into my back pocket. At some point between warm jokes and the occasional gutterball, this reluctant meet up had turned into a real date. A real date I was leaving to calm my fluttered heart with the sight of another man and to become that foolish, young girl I thought I’d left in my past.


	10. Chapter 10

**At Times Like These  
It's Obvious**

Sam loaded the emptied bowls ringed in deep red into the dishwasher. Dean wiped down the table, picking up grilled cheese crumbs with a dampened cloth. While they slaved away in the kitchen, I carried a bundle of bedding to make a bed out of the couch for Sam. Dean, by virtue of being the oldest, had the privilege of sleeping in the real bed in the spare bedroom. I wrestled a sheet over the couch and did my best to fluff up the rarely used pillow. Sam just gave a lopsided smile at my efforts to be hospitable. His distant eyes hinted that he was off remembering something long passed.

I bid the boys goodnight and shut the door to my own room to give them some privacy. I pulled the book on vampire legends from the nightstand and flipped through the pages, perusing the illustrations. Mostly, though, I just listened in to the muffled noises of the brothers in my home. A loud burst of laughter ended their night. The sliver of light illuminating the crack at the bottom of the door disappeared. I could hear the door to the spare bedroom as Dean pulled it shut behind him. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I liked having the Winchesters around. I turned to the last chapter of the book to start actually reading it. Before I could even get halfway through Dean quietly slinked in, a devilish look in his eyes. He jumped contentedly onto my bed, crossing his legs and craning his head to see what I was reading. I handed the book over to him so I could get up to shut the door all the way.

“You’ll wake Sam,” I softly scolded. Sam didn’t seem like he knew, and I was hoping he wouldn’t have to know. I didn’t want him to think less of me for being another notch in his brother’s bedpost. I bumped into Dean when I turned around. He smiled and slipped his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. He pulled me against his heat flushed body. I could’ve melted under his gaze, which called a light blush into my cheeks. My hand reached up to run up the back of his neck towards his hairline. Fingers fanned out through his soft brown locks. I gave a gentle tug. His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. My eyes shot a glance at his barely parted lips. I expected a scorching kiss to come lay waste to any lingering reservations. Instead, he pulled his hand from my pocket, brandishing the napkin I’d forgotten all about.

“What do we have here?” He asked, curious excitement lighting his face. I tried to snatch it away but he quickly moved to hold it out of reach. He raised an eyebrow and quickly unfolded it. I tried to distract him with a kiss to the neck, but it didn’t stop him from reading the little scrap. “Who the fuck is Mike?” His mood turned surprisingly dark, leading me to wonder what exactly was he expecting to find on a napkin in my back pocket? A cookie recipe? I took a wary step away, surprised by his harsh tone.

“He’s a friend of a friend. I just met him,” I found myself inexplicably explaining. What right did he have to know? Why did he care what I did with the 95% of the time he wasn’t around? He handed it back to me with some hesitation, struggling to overcome an insecure, accusatory expression that gave me pause.

With eyes averting my own he asked, “Do you like him?”

“What? Does it even matter?”

I grabbed his waist and tentatively got close. I turned us around so his back faced the newly shut door. I steered us toward the bed before tugging him down on top of me. Even face to face, even with the electric sparks prickling my skin, Dean looked like his mind was up in space. One hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt. The other rest gently behind his ear. Slowly his eyes trained on my own.

“I’m here with you now. Be here with me now, ok?” I planted a quick kiss and watched his hard gaze slowly soften. From where they rested on his body my hand pulled him the rest of the way to me. One short sigh released the remaining negative energy as he complied with my request.


	11. Chapter 11

**My Dirty Little Secret.  
Who Has To Know?**

I pulled the spare key from an empty credit card slot in my neon red wallet and inserted it into the lock of her third floor apartment. The quiet darkness assaulted my senses first. Then the incredible stillness. I always imagined this must be what museums feel like after dark, without the soft patter of feet or joyous, intrigued conversations filling its walls. My best friend didn’t need “Please Do Not Touch” signs to keep her apartment in pristine order, though. Hating to be alone, she spent as little time at home as possible. Of course, her insanely long work hours certainly helped in that endeavor. Her love of modern furniture added to the empty, lifeless feel, at least until she would come home and fill it with her large personality.

With a few clicks and the chime of my iPod connecting to the bluetooth speakers, the soft sound of indie rock filled her kitchen. I pulled open every cupboard door and kitchen drawer to find everything easier. Stacie loved going out with friends and coworkers for a bar crawl on her birthday. I tagged along dutifully but much preferred coming over the night before for birthday cake and wine. We’d been doing it for years, but she generally tried to act surprised to find me. 

I hummed along to Greg Laswell’s voice as I poured the cake batter into the pan, one eye on the clock. With ever perfect timing, the front door opened just as I slid the cake into the pre-heated oven. I set the timer and sank into an elegant stool at the bar.

“So, how was he?” Stacie asked salaciously as she came into the room and deposited her purse on the back of a chair. Curiosity burned in her eyes, explaining why she skipped all pretenses of being shocked I was baking her birthday cake.

“Excuse me?”

“Your “emergency” the other night?” A blush crept into my cheeks at being called out. She gave a pointed stare in return. “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t see through that?” I just shrugged in response. Honestly, I had at least hoped she wouldn’t ask. That mischievous glint in her eyes whenever a hint of drama is underfoot should’ve told me it would be a hopeless effort to hold a secret from her. She poured two glasses of white wine and slid one in front of me. “So?” 

I seized the opportunity to use a stalling tactic and took a sip of the offered wine. I still wasn’t sure how much I wanted to share, but I certainly didn’t want her to know I’d been sleeping with some fly-by-night type of guy that I wasn’t even sure I necessarily liked as a friend who passed through town from time to time. I didn’t want her to know I was willing to drop my plans to be with some guy who couldn’t even be bothered to ask to see me without more than a couple hours notice. Her intent gaze told me she would never let me go until she learned something.

“It was nothing like that,” I partially lied. “I just had two old friends passing through that wanted to say hi and grab a bite to eat.”

“Was it Book Boy?” I raised an eyebrow. “It was Book Boy, wasn’t it? Why would you want to spend time with a guy who wants to kill mermaids when you could bowl with Mike?”

“Because he’s my friend,” I softly insisted, daring her to call him, and by extension me, weird. She rolled her eyes and delved into talking about Mike more, and wouldn’t it be great if we could be sisters-in-law? 

My mind slowly wandered back to my bedroom shortly after Dean’s gaze crossed the napkin that had been dropped and temporarily forgotten. I wished I could tell Stacie about the storm building in his eyes and get her advice on what it all meant.

_He stiffened and slid out of bed, quickly sliding into his dark denim jeans. My eyes couldn’t help themselves and quickly scanned up his body before hitting those set eyes. I could’ve shrunk under his empty stare if I wasn’t so busy roiling with confusion. I’d missed whatever he’d said, but I knew he’d said it far too loud._

_“Be quiet,” I hissed. “Sam’s going to find out.” His head cocked to the side, as if asking for an explanation. I gestured helplessly to him and the whole room. How do you tell a man you like sharing a bed but didn’t want anybody to know that without hurting his feelings? Certainly this was not the best way to handle the situation._

_“Sweetheart, Sam already knows.” A slightly triumphant smile creased the corners of his lips. He grabbed his t-shirt from my floor and left, shutting the door with just less than a slam behind him. I tried to follow him, quickly shrugging into a t-shirt and shorts. I wanted to know what he’d said. More than that, I wanted to apologize or explain. I wanted to do something. I just wasn’t sure what. Dean, though, wasn’t heading to the spare bedroom. He was already turning over the ignition by the time I reached the front porch._

I wanted my friend’s help, but I couldn’t stand to see her disappointment if she found out what I’d done. So instead we talked about how Mike will be coming for her bar crawl tomorrow. We ate cake and talked about Clint and the surprise bouquet delivered to her office this afternoon. We talked about work. We talked about our favorite tv show and possibly going out for more wine. We talked about how we wished a company would deliver wine. We talked about everything but that storm in Dean’s eyes when he saw that damned phone number.


	12. Chapter 12

**I Keep My Jealousy Close.  
Cause It's All Mine**

Stacie pulled up to the bar despite my protesting groans. She lightheartedly laughed as she flipped it into park. “Oh Jams, a change of scenery is exactly what the doctor ordered.” She was shocked when things didn’t work out between Mike and me at her birthday three months ago. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was because she was being so pushy that I was already sick of the poor guy. Since then she’d been desperate to find a date for me, despite my insistence I was perfectly happy alone. That maybe I would start adopting dogs and cats. Sam had called me once or twice but I hadn’t seen either of them since that stupid fight. I tried to lie to myself, but really I knew Stacie’s efforts would never work while I was waiting for the phone to ring.

“Remind me not to go to your shitty doctor,” I muttered to myself as I reached for the door handle. Maybe Stacie was right, though. Maybe here I could drink and flirt and not worry about what I’d do if Winchester rang as he passed through town. For her sake, and a little bit of mine, I resigned myself to be open to something new. She led the way, choosing a small table off to the side. We managed to order our drinks before her eyes began to scan. She pointed out a few prospects, playfully prodding me. She guessed at their occupations, always giving far more exciting prospects than what could possibly be true. I wasn’t exactly sure what she thought a marine biologist would be doing in a bar in landlocked Utah. I laughed at her attempts to be every guy’s wingman, content enough to just focus on my lemon drop. 

A slightly older guy with dark brown hair helped himself to a seat at our table. His light green eyes crinkled from genuine smiles at just about every joke Stacie served up, and he even responded with a few amusing stories from his insurance office. I relaxed quite a bit a third of the way into my second lemon drop, and Eric’s easy presence and gentle attention helped. He left with a regretful look on his face when his phone rang, but he didn’t leave a number. I began my third drink of the hour while Stacie searched for two acceptable dance partners, determined to make sure that for tonight, at least, I wouldn’t be alone. She playfully grabbed my forearm in mock surprise, delight overpowering her normally laid back expression. 

“Is that not the hottest guy you’ve ever seen?” My brows furrowed. Stacie appreciated the male form as much as anyone I knew but I had never seen her this excited about a real life person. Those were her dreamy celebrity crush eyes. Curiosity won out. When I swiveled around in my seat, I didn’t even try to hide the fact that I was looking with a deer in the headlights expression, not that it mattered. His attention was more than absorbed by the beer he was slugging back with a ridiculously gorgeous woman fawning over him. Simultaneously I managed to choke on my drink and drop the glass. I whipped back around without attracting his attention, but not before briefly locking eyes with the youngest Winchester. I quickly passed money across the table to Stacie for my drinks. She was so busy gawking she barely noticed I was leaving. 

Outside the bar I tried to catch my breath, scolding myself for reacting this way. In my defense, this was supposed to be a change of scenery and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“Jamie, hey, are you ok?” Sam gently placed a hand on my arm.

“Of course,” I lied. His eyes narrowed, challenging my line. “I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting to see you guys here.”

“We’ve been running all over lately. I don’t even know where ‘here’ is,” he confessed. “What are you doing away from home?”

"Locals aren’t supposed to roam too far from home, right?” I joked mean spiritedly, and almost immediately regretted it. “We were just headed home from California. Stacie had a work thing and I’ve never been,” I explained. The alcohol in my system chose this unfortunate moment to spike, getting the better of me. “Is that what I’m up against?” 

He sighed and squirmed a little. “I don’t think I want to do this,” he admitted. I prodded, pleading my drunkenness to change his mind. I caught him eye me quickly, surely seeing what I was thinking. I was wearing dark but fading jeans with New Balance sneakers and a light yellow plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. I screamed hometown Midwest. That girl was wearing tight black pants and a tight sparkling silver top with shiny black stilettos. She screamed rock and roll and looked much more natural next to Dean than I ever could. “I’m not speaking for my brother,” he hedged, “but for what it’s worth, he comes back to you.” He shifted his stance, clearly uncomfortable having told me even that much. His eyes lit up as an idea came to him. “Let’s go inside! I bet he’d like to see you!” I pictured him inside drinking with her, an arm undoubtedly wrapped around her tiny waist. A carefree smile plastered on his face. No chance of stormy skies in his eyes. If I go in there it would only be jealousy trying to keep them apart. I had no right to do that. He had my number and could call anytime he wanted. Besides, I was the Nebraska girl and this was Utah Dean. These two worlds weren’t supposed to collide. 

“No, I have to go. Tell him hi for me in the morning, alright?” He agreed and returned inside with a description of Stacie and instructions to find her. She wasn’t likely to get her hot man, nor did I want her to, but maybe if she got to know Sam, she wouldn’t look down on him quite so much.

 

Our terribly cheap hotel room room had terribly cheap bedding. The thin curtain put up no fight against the late morning sun. I shot a glance towards the empty twin bed, wondering where Stacie spent the night. A searing stab of jealousy pierced through my gut as I couldn’t help but wonder if we now had to add something else to our list of shared experiences. 

I opted for a quick cold shower to wash away the slight hangover as I waited, dreading the thirteen hour drive home. Next time I’d have to insist on getting plane tickets. I stepped out of the steamed up bathroom to discover a ringing phone. Dean’s name, or rather ‘Unknown Number’, on the screen prompted a quick response. He never called unless he was in town, and I happened to know for a fact he was not.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Sammy tells me you’re in Utah.” Was that what was wrong or were we skipping over that part?

“I was. Left this morning,” I lied. “What do you need?”

“Funny thing is, I’m looking right at your travel partner so either you’re one cold bitch or you’re a liar.” Another pang erupted along my nerves. Which Winchester did she go home with last night?

“Oh, Dean, can’t I be both?” I sweetly teased. It took every ounce of determination I had to keep my insecure panic from entering my voice. “Listen, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you when I see you, ok?” I didn’t really give him much of a chance to respond. It would have been so much easier if he just didn’t call. What was he even expecting to happen? Was I supposed to hear his voice and come running like a beckoned puppy? Maybe. Maybe that’s what the other girls do. I just needed some time to figure things out. 

Unfortunately, a long road trip with Stacie didn’t help. She’d caught some kind of bug over this boy and would not shut up. At least the relief that she hadn’t slept with Dean came off my chest like a helium filled balloon. She’d just gotten too drunk to help Sam find our hotel room last night.

“Why didn’t you tell me you know that gorgeous man?” I rolled my eyes. Admittedly, I found him attractive. I also knew how damned annoying he could be, though. 

“Didn’t I, though?” I hoped that would be the end of it, but for the next hour she gushed about the man. It didn’t matter to her that I didn’t want to think about him right now. I didn’t want to keep replaying the memory of him at the bar. I didn’t want to keep seeing my edited memory imagining him in all kinds of dives with all kinds of women wherever he was working. Mostly, I didn’t want to admit that this was jealousy. Jealous meant I hoped for something more.


	13. Chapter 13

**I Should Have Known  
It Would Come Back To Haunt Me**

I wasn’t home very long, only five days or so, before the infamous Winchester called. It was maybe a little unfair to him, but I was still fighting off Stacie’s attempts to get in touch with the boys again. Now that she’s seen his older brother, “Book Boy” has become an acceptable friend. I tried to explain that even if I wanted to call, the only contact information I had was "Unknown Number."

I slid the phone into my back pocket, still unable to decide what I wanted to do about this whole mess. A small wave of triumph washed over me at just this small victory. I tried to turn my attention back to the soft sounds of the cold stream as it meandered around my ankles, but a part of me couldn’t stop thinking about him. Did I really want to continue seeing him only on his weird schedule as a body to warm him while he passed through my small patch of the earth or did I want to move on with my life? I wished I could go back in time and undevelop feelings for him, or at the very least undiscover them. 

The phone beeped, indicating he’d left a voicemail. It seemed odd since he didn’t seem like the type to leave a message, but I let it go. I’d never actually missed a call so what did I know? Unable to just enjoy being in nature, I turned my attention to the crime novel Stacie lent me. Soon the phone rang again. Another message followed immediately by another missed call. By the end of the chapter I decided to just turn the damn thing off altogether. 

With nearly frozen feet and a blazing sunset almost gone from the sky, I stood up and slipped back into my flip flops. I made my way back to my kitchen, putting my phone on the counter where I couldn’t lose it. I poured a glass of white wine, bringing the bottle to the couch with me. Before long I nearly finished the book and, more importantly, the bottle. I was roused from my drunken nap on the couch, one leg dangling over the side. Somebody was banging on my door, screaming my name. Panic hit first. Then irritation kicked in as I feared the chickens would spook if the noise kept up any longer. I flipped the porch light on and swung the door open with more force than intended.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed as he cautiously peered around me, trying to get a better look at my living room. Somewhat satisfied, he quickly scanned my face and body. 

“Are you alright? Is there anybody else here with you?”

“Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I am alone.”

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he half-accused, half-asked me. The first signs of relief eased his tense expression slightly.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to talk to you?” A foreign look flickered across his face. Apparently it never crossed his mind.

“Can I come in?” I told him no, much to his surprise. As I went to shut the door in his face, his hand shot out to stop me. “Sam’s in the car; can he come in?” Something buried in his eyes told me I just had to let him do this. I shrugged, my brain reeling to figure out what was going on here. Nothing in our past indicated he might be controlling or abusive, yet here he was flying off the handle over a few missed phone calls. If it weren't for my confidence in Sam’s sanity I would have call the police. Dean ran down the steps before I could change my mind.

I watched Sam meander up the walk, a sheepish look on his face. Dean leaned against the driver door trying to look relaxed yet I could tell he was ready to pounce at a moment's notice.“Sorry about this.” A crooked smile accompanied his apology. I waved him inside, locking the door behind him. I stared expectantly at him. He shrugged. “We’ve been hearing some terrible rumors on the road. When you didn’t pick up, I guess he feared the worst.” 

“Well I’m fine, as you can see. You can get back to work.” His right hand nervously scratched behind his ear. 

“Do you think I could crash here tonight? Just to be safe,” he quickly added. I wanted to shove him out the door and demand neither one of them return, but I figured that was probably just the building wine headache speaking. 

“Whatever, fine. I don’t want your brother here, though.” His face lit up and I could tell he was relieved. He expected me to put up a bigger fight. Maybe I should have.

“Great! I’m going to run and tell Dean. Just don’t change your mind,” he nervously added. As he dashed out to his brother, I quickly tidied the spare bedroom. I retrieved my phone from the counter and turned it back on. Thirty new messages. Once this headache subsided I’d need to find out just what these terrible rumors were. 

“So what’s up with you two? You still mad about Utah?” I looked up, a little startled. I hadn’t heard Sam come back inside. I sighed and joined him on the couch.

“I’m not mad.” His eyebrows shot up, questioning me. “Really, I’m not. Disappointed, maybe. He’s actually kind of a great guy and seeing him with that woman made me realize I want a little bit more than a hookup. I think I have to say goodbye, you know?” 

“Have you talked to him about it?” I stood up, laughing.

“Talk to Dean? No, I haven’t.” He smiled. He knew better than anybody that it was pulling teeth to open up his brother. “I’m going to bed. Do you need anything?” He shook his head no. 

As I made my way to my bedroom I caught a glimpse of that familiar black Impala parked on the drive. I briefly considered calling him and inviting him in, a part of me strangely touched he would sit out there for me. Luckily my rational brain kicked in first. It was bad enough I allowed Sam to stay just to make him feel better. I definitely didn’t want to further encourage this stalkerish behavior.


	14. Chapter 14

**You Slept Safe And Close To The Window  
I've Got A Bad Feeling About This**

I woke up long before Sam, who undoubtedly served as sentry late into the morning, and slipped out the back door to take an early morning walk. The sun clung just below the eastern horizon, sending forth bright pink rays through thick clouds to test the waters. Dean slept slumped against the driver’s window, a small patch of condensation fogging up the window near his slightly parted lips. His usual sleeping serenity was gone, with no hint it ever existed.

Rubber soled shoes crunched noisily against the gravel road. Thoughts quickly scattered off to all the little chores I needed to get done this week. I focused on these mundane tasks, trying to leave the insanity at my house behind for a while. When I reached the stand of mail boxes about a quarter mile from my house, I felt cold fingers wrap around my left wrist. Before I could react they yanked hard. The force pulled me off balance and twisted me around to face the assailant. Blood rushed into my cheeks with a touch of anger tensing my muscles at the sight of familiar features. He gave me a stern look, his hazel eyes ever so slightly narrowed and simmering. A bulge along his jaw indicated he was clenching his teeth. I jerked my arm away from his grip like a hand away from a hot stove. He was stronger. He could have easily held on but he let me go.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“You have to stop acting so crazy,” I shouted angrily not caring who might hear. He softened, the outer layer of his macho guard melted away, revealing a hint of panic and relief. 

“Can I just buy you breakfast?” I stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to figure out his end game. “Please?” I annoyedly agreed. We walked silently back to his car, he walked a few paces behind me, and he drove the short distance into town. He held the plated glass door open for me. I suppressed a smirk when the waitress’s eyes practically bulged out of her eyes at the sight of him. She sat us in a booth by the window and left to fetch two glasses of water and an orange juice for Dean.

“Is everything alright?” I rolled my eyes and turned the question back to him. He grunted and murmured some remark to himself. I raised an eyebrow, trying to indicate I was not about to let him off the hook that easily. 

“Just this random rash of indescribable freak accidents, ok? Nothing worth spoiling your appetite over.” I believed him, but I also knew he wasn’t telling me everything. Nobody calls thirty-one times and posts a guard over some random accidents. He didn’t help his cause by looking miserably uncomfortable as he leaned across the table to change the subject. “Sam said you were crying in Utah?” Just what rumors was he hearing that he’d rather talk about tears? I cringed and did my best to avoid eye contact, suddenly very interested in the tar patterns on the street outside the window. Luckily Rochelle bought me some time when she came over with two sets of silverware and laminated menus. I raised my to cover my face before I could proceed with cautious honesty.

“Do you remember when we watched The Exorcist? And I made you promise to not make fun of me before I asked you to stay?” I just knew he was smirking on the other side of my makeshift screen but he said he remembered. “Well, if I ask you for a favor, do you promise not to make fun of me?” He again indicated he would and I knew I’d captured his attention. I slowly lowered the menu, having decided to order a waffle and scrambled eggs. He sipped on his glass of orange juice.

“Dean, back then I asked you to stay. I’m thinking now it’s time for you to leave.” I inwardly groaned at myself. This time he raised an eyebrow. Words stumbled out of my mouth before I could stop any of them, before I even had time to process what was going out. Once I gained enough control to stop myself I buried my face in my hands, waiting to drop dead of embarrassment. 

“Somebody needs to spend a little less time at the daycare,” he teased. I glared, hoping looks actually could kill. He promised not to make fun of me. “If I gave you a phone number would you want to spend some of that time with me?”


	15. Chapter 15

**A look from you and I would fall from grace  
And that would wipe this smile right from my face**

My relationship with Dean, if you could really call it that, was short lived, to say the least. In the month or so following breakfast in the diner, I hadn’t seen either brother. The few times I managed to successfully get through to Dean on the phone he always sounded distracted and usually wound up hanging up on me following a clipped excuse about being busy with work. Of course, I knew better. Insurance agents don’t work at two in the morning. I tried to grit my teeth and bear it. Only a real jerk would convince me to let him stick around if he wasn’t planning on sticking around. Despite all the signs saying he was indeed such a jerk, something about him simply wouldn’t let me believe that.

Eventually he confessed that he had terrible timing and things were just too busy for him right now. He suggested we put things on hold until he could get some stuff taken care of. I found myself making the comparison to that first college boyfriend and I hated myself for getting into this situation again. I lashed out, snapping off an angry comment that I couldn’t even recall after we’d hung up. I hadn’t heard from him in the month since. That didn’t stop me from missing him, though. That just fueled my frustration even more. 

Stacie, of course, wouldn’t let me just sit around alone and mope. After I refused to call Mike, she drug me along on her work trip to Ohio. That’s how I found myself in a small karaoke bar with too much whiskey in me. I was attempting to talk to a local man still trying to make things work out with his band when I sensed Stacie freeze next to me. I turned around to see what she was looking at before she could stop me. Dean Winchester with a short black haired girl at his side. His smile slid off his lips as he locked eyes with mine, but he quickly averted his gaze and guided the girl to a table. I did my best to hide the scowl I felt at the world for constantly letting this man cross my path. 

I waved Stacie away when she suggested we could leave. She was still standing stiffly, debating whether or not to just drag me out. I returned my attention to the drummer, or at least I tried to. Mostly I returned my attention to drinking.   
Alcohol hummed in my bloodstream. Enough to drive me to do the unthinkable. I quietly rose from my table and walked up to the man by the stage. I gave him ten dollars for the entry fee and passed along my song selection. A small smile pulled the corners of my lips as I imagined the look of mortification that must be stuck on Stacie’s face now. 

When the girl already on the stage finished her song to a smattering of polite applause, the man waved me up. I tripped a little on the first step, a peal of laughter escaping me. I stood at the microphone stand with flame red cheeks, starting to regret my drunken decisions.My palms felt a bit clammy. I wiped them on the legs of my jeans. The atmosphere in the audience shifted as they mirrored my nerves. The music started, playing the slow piano from Sam Cooke’s “Bring it on Home to Me.” This was one of my grandma’s favorite songs and I’d heard it so many times as a kid that I had the words memorized, despite the years and impaired state of mind. My eyes slid shut while both hands wrapped around the mic still nestled in its stand. My hips couldn’t be contained and they swayed slightly.

“If you ever change your mind about leaving, leaving me behind,” I sang, finally releasing all of the misery I’d felt since that ill-fated phone call where he was too busy for something like us. The misery that flared back up when he walked in with a new girl on his arm. He wasn’t too busy for us. He was too busy for me. I opened my eyes just before the second verse began, somehow managing to lock onto his eyes even as fat tears slowly trickled down my cheeks.

“I know I laughed when you left. But now I know I only hurt myself,” I continued. When I finished the song, I didn’t even bother to wipe the tears from my eyes. I simply walked back to my seat and downed a shot of Patron. It occurred to me that the applause I heard was actually fairly enthusiastic. Maybe I actually had a chance to win the contest, not that that was my intent. I’d just wanted to tell him that I missed him.

Not to be outdone, he went up himself. He drew a few wolf whistles, which he met with a sheepish smile. My clammy hands gripped the seat tight enough to turn my knuckles white. I waited anxiously, hoping for a sign that he still wanted me, too. So when Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” came on, I got back up from my seat and walked out. Stacie tried to follow but I just needed a few minutes alone. I kicked myself for ever believing my life could be like a movie for even ten minutes. In my scripted version, Dean would have followed up with an equally heartbreaking song about lost love. Or maybe even a speech about his past mistakes. Instead, I got a hit song from the eighties. 

I sat down in the alley and cried. Then I cried harder when I couldn’t get myself to stop crying. At least now I finally had an answer. Now if only I could figure out how to move on.


End file.
